Home
by Layla Reyne
Summary: Oliver reclaims his home and a missed opportunity. One-shot/Post-S2 Finale/Olicity.


**Home**

**By: Layla Reyne**

**Summary: **Oliver reclaims his home and a missed opportunity. One-shot/Post-S2 Finale/Olicity.

**A/N:** Yeah, it's a little sugary and sweet but that finale has me in a hopeful mood! Thanks as always to Sandra (dutchtreat) and Chelley (rachellebelle08) for their invaluable beta and pre-reading assistance. Without their input, I'd just be a mess of feels ;). Also, a BIG THANK YOU for the lovely reviews on Absence. It was a great welcome to the fandom!

**Disclaimer: The characters and other things from Arrow are not mine. All due credit to the rightful holders.**

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It takes months.

Months of dismantling each new threat to Starling City's rebirth.

Months of corporate maneuvers.

Months of hacking by a certain blond IT girl turned partner to an ex-billionaire with superior archery skills.

But we got here.

With Dig and Lyla, Walter, Roy, the Lances, and even Barry Allen in his silly red suit at our backs.

The only black mark on this day is my sister's absence but if these past few months have taught me anything, it's that nothing is impossible. We'll get Thea back.

"How many more of these do I have to sign?" Felicity's beleaguered voice carries from the living room over the movers' boots clamoring up and down the staircase.

"You're the one that insisted on notarizing these documents, Ms. Smoak," Ned reminds her with a smile.

Leaning my t-shirt clad shoulder against the archway, I can't help but smile too as she signs and stamps another document, fidgeting and re-crossing her bare legs beneath the desk, her high-heel, sandaled foot bouncing restlessly.

She did insist on this, went to the notary classes and everything. Didn't even hack herself a certification because she didn't want to take any chances that this could one day be undone.

And she wanted her name on those documents, right next to mine. As it should be. She's fought as hard as I have to get them. The documents that restore my family's controlling interest in Queen Consolidated, name me its CEO and make this house mine once more.

_My home._

"Stop grinning over there," Felicity grumbles, her bespectacled blue eyes flitting to mine, as she flips over another signed and stamped page.

"You did insist," I shrug.

She narrows her eyes and audibly growls in return.

"Only a few more, Ms. Smoak," Ned chuckles, pushing another document under her nose to refocus her attention.

I continue to watch, captivated by what would otherwise be a supremely mundane task. With the midday sun streaming through the mansion windows, making her pale skin glow and her long blond hair shimmer as it falls over her shoulders, a style she's taken to wearing more often lately, I'm helpless to look away.

_Light. _

I didn't understand Sara then, but I began to when, in this very spot, in the silent shadows, on one of the darkest nights of my life, I spoke the words I didn't realize were true until I'd said them aloud. Felicity offered me an out on the beach in Lian Yu, but I didn't take it, and that light has grown brighter every day since, even though I have yet to repeat the words.

That changes today.

"Mr. Queen, we're all set," a gruff voice calls behind me, and I'm pulled out of my thoughts and back to the foyer where the movers are clearing out.

Isabel worked fast, auctioning off the art collection, the wine library and other high value items, but most of our furniture was still in storage. I just had to make a few additional purchases, including the oversized desk in the living room that Felicity is sitting behind signing papers. But for the documents she's signing, it's empty and bare, which I'm sure feels as foreign to her as it does to me.

I haven't told her yet, but an even bigger desk, together with monitors, keyboards, server racks and everything she needs to build a secondary base of operations in the wine cellar downstairs, will be delivered tomorrow.

She might be saddened at first by the empty wine racks surrounding her, but I know her sadness will fade as I fill another slot each day with a new bottle. Then it'll just be ironic, which I also know she'll appreciate.

I'm initialing the last delivery slip when I hear Ned declare the other signing done and Felicity's ridiculous "woop, woop" in response. I can't see her, but I'm sure there are fist pumps involved as well. All of us in hearing range chuckle, even the hulking, grizzled moving foreman.

"Your girl," he says, eyes drifting over my shoulder to the living room. "Somethin' else."

"You have no idea," I grin, handing over the clipboard full of delivery receipts. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"What's left to be delivered?" Felicity asks, coming to stand at my side, her ever-present tablet tucked beneath one arm.

"It's nothing," I wink. Nodding to the foreman, he returns the same and then leaves out the open front door.

Ned moves to stand in his place, holding out a hand to me. Clasping it, I go to shake but the older man's grip tightens, his eyes locking with mine. "Your parents would be proud, Oliver."

I'm not sure which is louder – Felicity's sharp intake of breath or me swallowing around the lump in my throat. I only manage to find words again when one of her small, strong hands clenches my bicep.

"Thank you, Ned."

"My pleasure," he says, giving my hand one last squeeze before letting it go. "For the good of the Company, I'd recommend keeping this young lady around," he adds, nodding toward Felicity.

"I have no intention of ever letting her go," I reply, tone light, words anything but. Instantly, Felicity's fingers tense around my arm, and I don't have to ask if she understands. If Ned's knowing grin is any indication, so does he. With the flick of his hand, he turns on his heel and exits.

I lose her touch as I step forward to close the door behind him. When I turn back, she's standing in the middle of the foyer, tapping away at her tablet with her dark green nails.

"I did a sweep for any leftover transmitting devices and we're clean," she says without looking up. "I've also tested and confirmed that all of the existing alarms work and connected them directly to our mainframe."

"Felicity," I begin, stepping toward her.

"You really should think about adding additional sensors and cameras inside and the perimeter needs work," she babbles on adorably, and if she bothered to glance up, she'd see the same idiotic smile I always get on my face when she does that. Dig's called me on it more than once.

"Is Ned's car clear of the perimeter?" I ask.

She taps the screen a couple of times and confirms, "All clear."

"Arm it," I tell her, stepping another foot closer.

This time her head does lift, tilting slightly, brow furrowing, as she looks at me. "Why?"

"Fe-li-ci-ty," I repeat, stringing out the syllables. "Arm it."

A few more taps and then she holds the tablet out to me. "Done. Now, tell me why we're arming the perimeter in the middle of the afternoon. Is there a new threat you and Dig haven't told me about?"

Taking the tablet from her, I glance at it briefly, before reaching up and sliding it between two rails of the staircase. "No new threat," I reply, shaking my head and closing the distance between us.

"I already told you it worked," she snaps defensively.

"That's what I'm counting on," I smirk, curling a hand around her neck beneath her hair as my other arm slices around her waist, hauling her body against mine. Fingers sliding into her hair, I bring her ear to my lips, tongue flicking the bar piercing there. "I'm going to make love to you on these stairs and then on that desk. In broad daylight. I'd like a heads up if any unexpected visitors arrive, wouldn't you?"

She stiffens in my arms, and when I tilt her head back an inch, her breathing is labored, her eyes wide and her cheeks bright pink.

_Beautiful._

"Oliver," she breathes, her blue eyes straying to my mouth and back.

"Do you understand?" I ask, repeating the most loaded question ever spoken between us, both then and now.

"Yes," she repeats her answer, her body melting into mine.

"You are the most beautiful, smartest, bravest woman I have ever known, Felicity Smoak, MIT Class of '09, and I love you."

"Oh," she responds quietly, as if this still surprises her.

I can't help but throw my head back and laugh. Arms wrapped around my neck, I can feel her laughing with me. It's freeing, intoxicating, just like her.

When our laughter subsides, I look down to find her smiling wide, her eyes full of hope, love, desire and more than a hint of mischief. I thought the stairs and desk might have been pushing it.

Maybe not.

Time to find out.

I lower my head to kiss those lips that have tempted me for far too long, but then one of her hands sneaks in between us and covers my mouth.

"Wait!" she whisper-shouts, holding up a single perfectly manicured finger on her other hand. "I have something to say."

I smile against her fingertips and dramatically roll my eyes. _Of course_ she has something to say.

"Are you going to let me say it?"

Rather than answering, I slip my tongue out between my lips, teasing the smooth palm of her hand.

"Oliver," she half chastises, half moans.

"Fine," I grin behind her hand. When she's sure I'll comply, her hand drifts away from my mouth and over my stubbled jaw, her thumb sweeping across my cheek.

Her eyes grow impossibly warmer, her face impossibly softer, and I know the words she's going to speak before she says them, my heart ramping up with anticipation.

"You're my hero, Oliver Queen," she says, surprising me. She's called me a hero before, but never _her_ hero.

"Felicity."

"And I love you."

Now that's what I expected, but it sounds and feels better than I imagined.

Hand plunging back into her hair, I twist the golden locks around my fist and tip her face, aiming for her mouth, but she jerks her head to the side again at the last second.

"One more thing," she blurts out, even as she rises up on her toes and plasters herself to me. "Desk first," she whispers huskily in my ear. "Then the stairs."

That does it.

The single ounce of control I had left evaporates. With a sharp tug of her hair, I right her face and slam my lips against hers, growling into her mouth. Immediately, her lips open under mine and my tongue spikes in, finally getting a taste of all that is my Felicity.

Bending slightly, my arm at her waist dips down, and Felicity, smartly taking the hint, hitches up her dress skirt and boosts herself into my arms, her legs circling my jean-clad hips. By the time I get us to the desk and sweep it clear of documents and her notary stamp, Felicity's got her hands beneath my shirt, fingers roaming greedily. Her ass barely hits the wood before she's forcing my arms up and the t-shirt off over my head.

I lean forward to reclaim her lips but she stops me, hands pressing against my chest.

"Felicity," I warn, way past the point of pumping the brakes.

Her hooded eyes follow the movement of her hands. "The only times I've been _this_ close is when you were injured or dying. Give me a second to enjoy this."

I give her five before ending her tortuous perusal. Removing her glasses, I toss them aside and yank the dark green dress she's wearing up her body and over her head. The instant it's off, she futilely attempts to use her legs and arms to pull me closer. Whether she's shy, turned on or both, I don't know nor do care.

"My turn," I tell her, hands to her shoulders, holding her slightly away and taking in the smooth expanse of flawless pale skin, interrupted only by a pink lace bra and matching panties.

My hands drift from her shoulders, down her sides, along the outer curve and undersides of her breasts, and then south over her stomach, separating just at the top of her panties to caress the tops of her parted thighs.

On their return path, one hand strays to her inner thigh, teasing the soft skin there, while the other makes quick work of the front clasp of her bra, popping it open and pushing it aside to palm her breasts.

"Oliver," she whimpers, shoving her chest and hips forward. One of her hands deftly works the fly of my jeans while the other threads through the short hair at the back of my neck. "Please," she begs.

This time I give in, capturing her lips at the same time I slip one finger inside her panties.

My previous growl is nothing compared to the groan that escapes at finding her soaking wet beneath the lace. Her answering groan comes a second later when her hand dips inside my jeans and finds my cock just as hard and ready.

We go wild.

Lips and teeth clash, fingers play and nails scrape, hands and feet work furiously to rid ourselves of clothing, and then finally, with a guiding hand and jerking hips, we're intimately connected, the both of us gasping against each other's lips as I slide fully inside her.

"Better," she breathes.

"What's better?" I ask, forehead pressed to hers, our blue eyes locked, as my fingers run through the length of her hair, from her temples to the ends.

"The real thing," she answers, softly kissing me. "Way better than the million and one fantasies I had about you and me and a desk."

"Desk first," I chuckle. "Now I get it," I smile, with a powerful thrust of my hips.

I get a half strangled, "Yes," in reply before her mouth silences mine. Her hips grind down and no more words are spoken.

Not until her back is on the desk with me above her – my elbows to the wood on either side of her head, hands tangled in her hair, my knees between her parted thighs, hers pressed high and tight against my sides, our hips meeting thrust for thrust, chasing our release. We reach it together, each other's names shouted aloud. Her back arches off the desk and I drive myself deep inside her, staying planted there as her inner walls ripple around my cock, prolonging the pleasure.

After, my first thought is that I'm too heavy. This desk may be big, but it's not big enough for us to lie side by side, so I give her as much of my weight as I think she can handle and brace the rest of my body above her. Her skin is pink all over, covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and I lean forward, licking, nipping and tasting as she comes back to herself. I know she's finally there when her fingers go from digging into the skin of my back to lazily coasting up and down my spine.

Raising my head from her neck, I smile down at her, brushing a few stray hairs away from her face. "Hope that lived up to the fantasy."

"Oh yeah, though I'm thinking tomorrow will be _even better_. Sex with Oliver Queen, on an even bigger desk, in a wine cellar. Three fantasies for the price of one. Can't beat that," she grins wickedly.

"That was supposed to be a surprise."

"You have me monitoring all of your accounts," she winks. "And you're a terrible liar, Oliver."

"You always see right through me, don't you?" I ask, framing her face with both of my hands, gazing into her eyes, open and honest.

"Count on it," she answers without hesitation, lifting up to kiss me softly.

"Always, Felicity," I reply, deepening the kiss.

After a few more minutes necking on the desk, I pull out and away, climbing off the desk and offering Felicity my hand. She sits up, swinging her legs around and taking my hand, but before her feet can hit the floor, I gather her in my arms, one arm sliding beneath her knees and the other winding around her back.

"Oliver!" she gasps, wildly kicking her feet. "What are you doing?"

"Stairs," I growl, running my tongue from her collarbone to her ear, teasing that bar piercing again, a long-held fantasy of my own.

Her reply … a full-bodied, head tilted back, ringing laugh that fills my heart with light.

We're home.

**THE END**

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